"Why not?" Sixshot comes to a stop a step away from his lover, optics narrow slivers of contemptuous red. "Tearing First Aid apart seemed to be your solution. What was he going to do you exactly, Tarn?"

Despite himself, despite his rage, the Sixer finds himself reaching out, cupping the side of Tarn's dented face with his hand.

"I don't understand," he murmurs, "We were doing so well and now you've gone and undone it all. Between us and the Autobots, we have medical supplies and half decent energon. You were always complaining about the heavy lead content Spinister's stuff had. How are we going to make up for it if Megatron doesn't manage to maintain the peace? How are the others going to survive?"

Because Sixshot isn't really going to be the one affected by a shortage of energon and medical supploes here, is he?